A Dirty Business (Kings of New York #1)(70)

“Always gotta be prepared, huh.” But I was stalling, and I knew it was time.

I aimed my flashlight down, seeing it was a set of crude carved-out stairs that led down into this tunnel/basement.

I suppressed a shiver and started down.

It didn’t occur to me until Ashton was fully behind me that he should’ve been the one going ahead. He had the gun.

I told him, “You better have that thing aimed down.”

“Of course, in case I need to kill any New York alligators.”

“Dumbass.”

“Uh, I’m the smart one. I got you to lead the way.”

That was true. I was the dumbass.





CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN


JESS


“Where are we?”

“We’re in a basement room underneath your brother’s nightclub.”

Remmi shivered, looking around her. Not that I blamed her. The room had all sorts of ick factor to it, but I’d found it a year ago when I’d been looking for lost inventory, hoping to come upon a surprise pile. I found the door that led down here and got adventurous one day, actually exploring. It was obvious no one from the club knew about it. The spiderwebs had been on another plane, they were that big.

But for all intents and purposes, I summarized so she wouldn’t freak out. “We’re directly beneath Anthony’s office.”

“Oh.” Her eyes got big, but they’d been big since I’d shown up.

I barricaded the one set of doors and turned on a fan, hoping it would stall anyone coming through.

“Are you going to hurt me?”

I squatted not far from her but definitely out of range of touching. Or lunging. I wasn’t totally trusting myself. “Do I need to?”

“This is a criminal offense, you know. You’re holding me against my will.”

I kept quiet on that front but did say, “This coming from the girl who put it out among the criminals that I was ‘protected’ by the West family Mafia? You kidding me? Orders of protection in the criminal world have a whole lot different definition than in the justice system.”

“Not really, not if you think about it. It’s the same thing—stay away—but it’s against everyone except the person. You know? The other in the justice system is a restraining order against one person, not everyone. The one I did makes more sense, and a lot more effective too.”

She was talking freely and without fear. And that pissed me off. I felt like reminding her: “I have a gun, and we both know you won’t use the justice system against me, so instead of talking about that, why don’t you explain to me who put it in your head that my mother was the reason for your mother’s suicide?”

She stiffened, hunched down in a chair. “Don’t talk about my mother.”

“Your mother’s the reason we’re here, because news flash, I had no idea your pops and my mom hooked up. I have a feeling I might’ve known that if that had happened, you know, since I’m a PO and all.”

It was dark in the room—my flashlight was the only light—but I could still see her glaring my way.

“I didn’t know until recently. My dad told me, and I think he’s a better source than you.”

I didn’t like hearing that, because . . . was it true?

I was still squatting but moved a little closer to her. “He told you recently?”

“Yeah. Why?” she snapped at me. “This is what we’re doing down here? You’re just going to interrogate me? I thought you were going to beat me up or something.”

I admitted, “I’m still thinking about it.”

She gasped.

“Haven’t made up my mind.”

She began whimpering just slightly, and I didn’t buy it, but she was putting in good effort. “My father will kill you for this.”

“Doubtful.” I stood up because I needed to pace. I needed to think. “I have a feeling if your dad could get my death sanctioned, he wouldn’t have had to resort to filling his daughter’s head with decades-old bullshit.”

“Then my brother,” she clipped out.

“I doubt that too. For doing something as reckless as you did, you weren’t smart about it. You didn’t suss out the real relationships going on. If you had, you might’ve stopped to wonder why Ashton took you away and didn’t fire me. Did you think about that? Did you ask yourself why your father was bringing up your mother’s suicide to you recently? I might be going out on a limb, but I don’t think a family suicide is fodder for normal conversation.”

She sniffled, adjusting on her seat. “I have no idea what ‘fodder’ means.”

“The context is that it’s not an everyday fucking conversation. You talk to your dad often?”

She didn’t answer.

I didn’t expect her to, because that didn’t fit the profile. I wasn’t a profiler, but I had enough psychology under my belt to know the reputation of her father wasn’t one of a great father. If he had been, if there was something to this beyond what I was starting to feel was total manipulation, then Trace would’ve reacted.

He hadn’t. There had been no reaction at all.

“I brought this up to your brother, you know.”

Her sniffling quieted, and she raised her head up.